


Elementary, My Dear Benedict.

by Eternalsunshineofafangirlingmind



Category: British Actor RPF, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance, The Sherlock Holmes Museum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:24:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternalsunshineofafangirlingmind/pseuds/Eternalsunshineofafangirlingmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, everyone. This is my first (published) Benedict fic. It’s mostly fluffy drabble about an OC going to the Sherlock Holmes Museum with Ben. I look forward to writing and sharing more Ben fics with all of you. (And apologies for any grammar or punctuation errors.)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Elementary, My Dear Benedict.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone. This is my first (published) Benedict fic. It’s mostly fluffy drabble about an OC going to the Sherlock Holmes Museum with Ben. I look forward to writing and sharing more Ben fics with all of you. (And apologies for any grammar or punctuation errors.)

“Have I told you how much I love you?” chimed Mia.

“You might have mentioned it a few times,” chuckled Benedict. “But I never get tired of it.”

London was particularly lovely during this time; the fallen leaves had absorbed a gorgeously yellow and orange colour. The air possessed a chill that was just perfect; indicating an arrival of a cold winter, but not tainting the sunshine. Benedict had returned home to relax with the love of his life before leaving to shoot another film. Mia was ecstatic that Ben finally got the attention and recognition he rightfully deserved, but loneliness took its toll on her sometimes, as it does to all, especially when he would be gone for too long.

Ben had felt bad for deserting her the way he did, and so, to make up for it, he agreed to take her to the Sherlock Holmes museum. She nearly squeezed the life out of him when he told her about their special date. It was a mystery to her why she had lived so long in London and never bothered to go there. The only reason she met Ben was because of her love for Sherlock Holmes. Here they were now, standing at the door of the museum, the beloved 221B Baker Street that was loved by so many and had managed to withstand the test of time.

“Maybe they’ll let me in here for free,” joked Benedict as he put his arm around Mia. “After all, I have lived here.”

“It never hurts to ask, darling,” responded Mia. She wrapped her slender arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes, so that her lips could easily meet his. His soft, puffy lips, accompanied by his Cupid’s bow made her heart beat a little faster each time they brushed against her skin. Benedict tightened his grip around her waist, letting one hand gradually travel down her back. He buried his face in her shoulder, not caring about who would see them. Affectionately, she raised it up till he could look into her hazel eyes.

Beaming, she motioned to the door. “Shall we?”

Entering, they were met by a gift shop with not too many people inside. On the walls were mugs, plates and even tea sets with famous characters and scenes from the novels. Deerstalker hats and pipes were lined in one place and near them, were stacks upon stacks of the books. Ever since ‘Sherlock’ aired, sales had shoot through the roof and many people found themselves picking up the books. 

Mia volunteered to buy the tickets while Ben looked around. As per habit, he picked things up and twiddled them in his fingers. His hair, albeit shorter than Sherlock’s curly locks, was dyed in the same raven shade and the people inside the shop could not help but stare at him with their mouths agape. They whispered to each other; each confirming the reality of his presence there. Some were bold enough to ask for a picture and an autograph. Most of them walked away squealing.  
While playing with a snow globe, he felt a hand wrap itself around his arm. Turning around, he saw Mia who handed him a ticket. “Let’s go.”

They walked through a red door on the left of the shop, to come in to the museum. There were vintage stairs and old fashioned, Victorian wallpaper on the walls. Ben held Mia’s hand tight to make sure she did not lose her balance and fall. The wood on the railings looked worn out with its blunt sides and chipped off paint. These days, people’s appreciation for history was fleeting and such places never got the attention they truly deserved. But Mia believed these landmarks held a stature that was unparalleled to modern buildings. She loved discussing history with Ben, among other things. She would catch herself using odd hand gestures and saying things she never normally would to convey things to him and he would look at her with love in his eyes that seemed as endless as the sea.

They came across a large room on the first floor. It was an absolute mess with furniture, books and pieces of equipment here and there. Alcohol bottles and apparatuses were scattered around at random and there were books on either side of the black fireplace. On the red wall, was Queen Victoria’s initials made from bullet holes. An old man whose wrinkly face was partially hidden by his deerstalker and tiny strands of gray hair peered out of them. His wise looking eyes narrowed as he met their gaze and he gradually pointed one of his bony fingers towards Ben.

“So you are the man who’s been impersonating me,” he smirked.

Ben face lit up and he could not help but laugh. “I’m terribly sorry if I’ve caused any trouble.”

“Young man, I do not play games. I am a serious detective,” he mock-scolded Ben. “But, my granddaughter is a tremendous fan of yours, so I’m willing to let you off with a warning.”

Grabbing the spare hat, Ben wore it on his head and insisted to take a picture with Sherlock. Mia could not help but grin from ear to ear as her boyfriend flashed a megawatt smile and took the picture. After thanking him, she lightly caressed Ben’s cheek with the back of her hand.

“How cool was that?”

“I have nothing on that guy,” he stated. “He’s got way more charm.”

Another place to visit was Dr. Watson’s room. Benedict looked around and took pictures on his phone to show Martin later. There were pictures, letters and statues around the house to keep the chaotic feeling of 221B alive. Employees, dressed in character, greeted them and asked them about their visit.

They continued to look around the museum. While Mia was examining an exhibit of Sherlock’s belongings, Ben held her waist and rested his head on her chin (he knew it annoyed her, but the tendency become concrete). Using a fake American accent, he asked, “What’cha doin?”

“Just hangin’ around,” she answered back in her best American impression. She let her hands travel down to entwine themselves with his. They felt strong, firm and comforting. And the feeling of having him back in her arms was ineffable. These moments were the ones she held onto; the ones that gave her the strength to speak to him with a smile on her face when he was miles away. She felt a soft peck touch her temple, followed by a rush of blood to her cheeks.

“This was fun, love.”

“Just wait till I get you alone,” she purred into his ear.

“What are you going to do?” he whispered, sounding immensely aroused.

“Elementary, my dear Benedict.”


End file.
